Aching
by thesilverscreens
Summary: Nellie Lovett spends some time alone with her imagination. One-shot


Through the windows she could tell that it was well past midnight. The moon was center straight in the sky, bringing in a dim light across the walls of her room and the sheets on her bed. A single candle was burning on her nightstand. Relaxed and open, she laid across the bed in her slip. Tried, but sleep had not invaded her mind. His pacing usually rocked her to sleep, but not tonight.

She had ignored the growing feeling for weeks, absently putting it in the back of her mind as she made her pies and served them to her customers all day long. But now, she simply could not ignore it any longer, or she just might explode.

And it didn't help when he came down in the evenings, talking with her faintly about the day while sipping a glass of gin. A few buttons would be unbuttoned on his shirt and his pale, muscular skin would spill out before her eyes, and she would force herself not to stare. She would not drink with him, not trusting herself in her state of mind, and would just listen to him talk for once and respond cheerfully. But it was getting _harder_. Surely he must know what effect he had on her during times like this?

And now as she laid in her bed listening to his feet hit the ground over and over again while her mind flooded with thoughts about him, she decided she _had _to give in.

Sitting up and throwing the covers off of her body, she folded her arms around herself and pulled her white slip off. She then wiggled out of her bloomers and threw them across her dark room, not giving a damn where they ended up.

What a strange feeling she had, naked in her bed in the middle of the night thinking lustful thoughts about the man she loved. She could not remember ever feeling this way or being in a situation like this.

She closed her eyelids, remembering how he had come into her parlor a few hours ago, _looking_ for her...saying her first name...his shirt clinging to his frame and his pants tight around his toned legs and thighs...

Now she was nervous. Was this going to be worth it? She didn't even remember how to do this. She had only done it once, and it was not satisfying. Should she back out now?

No. She would not. She had to get rid of this feeling. This _ache. _

Breathing in deeply, she moved in an upright position, adjusting the pillows to support her back. She was aroused, but only faintly, so she laid her head against the bed frame and tried to picture her barber here with her.

In her mind, he would start gently with her, brushing his lips across her face and whisper quiet words to her. His hands would run up and down her thighs as he would kiss her like it was the last time. Oh, she knew when he eventually would come in her bed he would be rough, and she would have no problem with it. But for this moment, she wanted to picture it as if it were her wedding night with him.

His hands would tug gently at her bloomers and corset, and she would take them off eagerly. She would strip him of his clothes and run her hands along his firm body, stroking his chest and down his stomach.

She swallowed hard, her breathing started to go faster than the normal rate. She opened her eyes again and looked down at herself, observing her shaking frame. She did not think of herself as beautiful. She was pale, too pale, and her breasts were overly big and had some age to them. She was skinny, maybe even too skinny for a man's taste. Her hair was just a mess, and her face had little wrinkles forming around her eyes and mouth.

It was silly enough to think any man would want her now.

Closing back her eyes to keep herself from judging her figure any longer, she slipped her right hand between her legs, stroking the soft skin of her thigh. She let her other hand rest gently on her left breast, squeezing the squishy flesh between her fingertips.

How he would feel her, how he would caress her skin and breasts and begin to touch her most sensitive spots between her thighs. She could see him sprawled on top of her body, readying himself to enter her heat.

Her hand moved away from her thigh and she planted two fingers on top of her clitoris, gasping at the unfamiliar pleasure and wetness her body was feeling. It had been so long since she had felt this extreme achingness when Sweeney had been the shy Benjamin and she was the young baker who stared at him too long to be happily married to another man. More often than not she would fantasize about him even in those days.

She blossomed under her own touch, spreading her legs wider and keeping her eyes firmly shut to not get rid of the image of the barber before her. She swirled her hips against her hand, her fingers rubbing circular motions against her bud of raw nerves. In her mind his tongue was there, devouring her and licking up her juices as she begged for him.

Her hand that she was not busy with moved and clenched the sheets under her, unsure if this pleasure was too much for her body. She whimpered as a small wave of pleasure started to form within her, the feeling almost too much to bear. It was impossible to be quiet now.

"Sweeney…" she breathed, continuing to rub and stroke herself, her fingers massaging the entrance of her heat. She was unbelievably wet. It was insane how just thinking about this wonderful man made her like this.

He would pound her, hit every pleasure point within her body. She would wrap her legs around his waist and beg him to go deeper, beg him to faster, beg him to go _harder._

Her mouth parted and her heart started to beat furiously in her chest, causing the beating sensation to travel down to her folds. She paused for a moment, stopping herself and taking a much-needed breather. Her body was twitching slightly, in need for a desperate release that she hadn't had in _years._

She was about to continue till she heard his pacing stop suddenly and she held her breath, praying silently that he hadn't heard her.

_Damnit, shut up Nellie._

After a few beats she continued, patience was never a really strong suit for her. She pushed two fingers inside her, causing herself to inhale sharply and let out a breathy moan. She was tight, very tight for a woman her age. Albert had not pleasured her at all though, only that one time on their wedding night. _Had it really been that long?_

Years. Yes, it had been _years_ since a man had been inside her. _Sad. _

She needed this.

She pressed her thumb more firmly against her clit and drew her fingers in and out of her quivering heat, groaning uncontrollably. She felt like she was being possessed by this unknown pleasure taking hold of her body. It had been tucked away for years, sprouting here and there to be released, but never allowed to. Till now.

As if she were trying to get rid of an unwanted stain off her table in her kitchen, she aggressively scrubbed at the spot beneath her thumb, her hips drawing upward slightly. She vigorously thrusted her soaking wet fingers in and out of her body, desperately wanting to orgasm.

To help get to her peak, she closed her eyes tightly and imagined instead of her fingers inside her, it was _him._ His cock. His hips slamming against hers. His mouth covering her own. His hands squeezing her breasts. His moans filling her eardrums.

That sent her completely.

She felt her hands go numb as the tension built up, forgetting her surroundings, forgetting that she was the baker that lived at 186 Fleet Street. Forgetting that she was not loved, because in this moment, it was _him _making love to her.

Almost in denial of the pleasure she was just about to receive, her back and head arched up and she clenched anything that she could, digging her nails into the bedsheets as she went over the edge, her hips thrusting up. She cried out loudly, losing herself and seeing stars in her black vision. The pleasure released too quickly for her liking, knowing that if she were actually with Sweeney it would last a lot longer. She whimpered his name as electric heat spread from her core and wave after wave after wave rolled through her trembling limbs, making her rock her hips against herself.

Soon the intensity faded and her hips drew back to the mattress, her body going still except for her rapid rise and fall of her chest and her fast beating heart. As she her laid her bottom back on the sheets she felt dampness under her and cursed. She would definitely have to wash her bedding in the morning.

She traced lazy circles around her wet clit, getting the last bits of pleasure before it all disappeared and left her regretting she had done this. Her eyes were still closed, and she placed her other hand against her forehead, resting it there as she tried to calm down. She surely would do this again if Mr. Todd doesn't pin her down on this very mattress in the next few weeks and take her.

As she continued touching herself, lost in a daze, Sweeney Todd continued to watch her like a hawk. She obviously had not heard him come down the stairs and open her door. She was too _occupied..._

He had heard her moans and whimpers from above, the walls were too thin in the building for him not to. At first he thought she was hurt, but that soon changed when he walked down to her room and peeked through the cracked open door. It sure was a sight to see.

He listened to her purr his name, rubbing herself still, as if she wanted to repeat her process. There was something so alluring to find her here, his landlady he has known for a great amount of time in his life, pleasuring herself and thinking of _him.._

"Beautiful…" he murmured.

And with that he closed the door shut.


End file.
